go.”
“You’re so pretty,” he said, flummoxing her. “Why would you deliberately lock yourself away?”
He thought she was pretty! How thrilling! How absolutely inappropriate that he would comment!
“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” she was shocked to hear herself admit.
“How long have you been there?”
“Eight years.”
“What about now? Does it still seem like a good idea?”
“Of course.”
“Well then, I’m delighted for you.”
His grin widened, and he gazed at her as if he suspected she was lying, as if he suspected she wasn’t happy. And she was happy! Mostly.
It was just that, every once in awhile, she questioned whether she shouldn’t have listened a bit less to her nanny and a bit more to her father. When she’d informed him of her plan, he’d been livid, and the more he’d scolded the more recalcitrant she’d become.
They weren’t even Catholics. Her nanny had been, but not her father or herself. Yet with the right amount of money offered, the convent would take any available candidate.
Faith had had her own funds, and when her father had refused to pay the costs of joining, Faith had paid her own way. It was a fact that vexed her.
Sometimes, she speculated over what else she might have done with that money. Sometimes, she ruminated over how she might have used it instead, the husband she might have had, the children she might have raised. But she didn’t contemplate it often or intently. She just occasionally… wondered .
“What does your father think of your being a nun?”
“He was quite set against it.”
“Why?”
“He viewed it as being preposterous. We’re not even Catholic.”
“Yet you jumped at the chance.” He shook his head. “You’re sounding stranger by the moment.”
“If I’d stayed at home, I would have been married off to my cousin, Lambert.”
“A fate worse than death?”
“Nearly.”
“So you put yourself out of his reach.”
“I guess you could look at it like that.”
She turned away and strolled down the verandah, wishing he wouldn’t follow.
She never discussed her father or Lambert or how they’d pressured her. Lambert had ingratiated himself to her father, had wormed his way into the family business and made himself indispensible. He’d been the son her father had always wanted, but his conduct was so mercenary.
His branch of the family was penniless and scattered, and he’d had no prospects. She believed that he’d assessed his predicament, then honed in on her, figuring he could inherit everything if she was his wife.
Yet there was a sneaky facet to his personality that only she had ever seemed to note. Her father certainly never had. He treated Lambert as if he walked on water and had never understood why she hadn’t eagerly agreed to be his bride.
She didn’t like to reflect on her childhood or her father. She’d been a quiet, lonely girl, reared by servants, mostly her nanny, and with very little interaction with her sole parent.
Mr. Hubbard was dredging it all up, and with his pestering her, she couldn’t keep it stuffed down deep inside where it belonged.
She stopped by the stairs that led to the beach. If she’d been a braver sort of female, she’d have ventured down, would have kicked off her shoes and stockings and waded in the waves. But that was probably more adventure than she knew how to experience.
He came up behind her, standing too close again. His thigh brushed hers, and she could feel the heat emanating from his body, could smell his hair and skin. All of it had the most disturbing effect on her anatomy.
She yearned to rub herself against him, to run her hands over all that exposed flesh. She expected it would be very hot, very smooth, and the fact that she was pondering such a detail was blatant evidence that she’d tipped off her rocker.
She should have jabbed him with her elbow, should have forced him back, but she didn’t. Though it was mad, she liked him just where he
“You’re so pretty,” he said, flummoxing her. “Why would you deliberately lock yourself away?”
He thought she was pretty! How thrilling! How absolutely inappropriate that he would comment!
“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” she was shocked to hear herself admit.
“How long have you been there?”
“Eight years.”
“What about now? Does it still seem like a good idea?”
“Of course.”
“Well then, I’m delighted for you.”
His grin widened, and he gazed at her as if he suspected she was lying, as if he suspected she wasn’t happy. And she was happy! Mostly.
It was just that, every once in awhile, she questioned whether she shouldn’t have listened a bit less to her nanny and a bit more to her father. When she’d informed him of her plan, he’d been livid, and the more he’d scolded the more recalcitrant she’d become.
They weren’t even Catholics. Her nanny had been, but not her father or herself. Yet with the right amount of money offered, the convent would take any available candidate.
Faith had had her own funds, and when her father had refused to pay the costs of joining, Faith had paid her own way. It was a fact that vexed her.
Sometimes, she speculated over what else she might have done with that money. Sometimes, she ruminated over how she might have used it instead, the husband she might have had, the children she might have raised. But she didn’t contemplate it often or intently. She just occasionally… wondered .
“What does your father think of your being a nun?”
“He was quite set against it.”
“Why?”
“He viewed it as being preposterous. We’re not even Catholic.”
“Yet you jumped at the chance.” He shook his head. “You’re sounding stranger by the moment.”
“If I’d stayed at home, I would have been married off to my cousin, Lambert.”
“A fate worse than death?”
“Nearly.”
“So you put yourself out of his reach.”
“I guess you could look at it like that.”
She turned away and strolled down the verandah, wishing he wouldn’t follow.
She never discussed her father or Lambert or how they’d pressured her. Lambert had ingratiated himself to her father, had wormed his way into the family business and made himself indispensible. He’d been the son her father had always wanted, but his conduct was so mercenary.
His branch of the family was penniless and scattered, and he’d had no prospects. She believed that he’d assessed his predicament, then honed in on her, figuring he could inherit everything if she was his wife.
Yet there was a sneaky facet to his personality that only she had ever seemed to note. Her father certainly never had. He treated Lambert as if he walked on water and had never understood why she hadn’t eagerly agreed to be his bride.
She didn’t like to reflect on her childhood or her father. She’d been a quiet, lonely girl, reared by servants, mostly her nanny, and with very little interaction with her sole parent.
Mr. Hubbard was dredging it all up, and with his pestering her, she couldn’t keep it stuffed down deep inside where it belonged.
She stopped by the stairs that led to the beach. If she’d been a braver sort of female, she’d have ventured down, would have kicked off her shoes and stockings and waded in the waves. But that was probably more adventure than she knew how to experience.
He came up behind her, standing too close again. His thigh brushed hers, and she could feel the heat emanating from his body, could smell his hair and skin. All of it had the most disturbing effect on her anatomy.
She yearned to rub herself against him, to run her hands over all that exposed flesh. She expected it would be very hot, very smooth, and the fact that she was pondering such a detail was blatant evidence that she’d tipped off her rocker.
She should have jabbed him with her elbow, should have forced him back, but she didn’t. Though it was mad, she liked him just where he
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